


lazy nights under blankets

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Locked In, M/M, Quarantine, another fic in quarantine yes don't @ me, dear vera i'm back on my bullshit, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: “Hibernate? In March?”“Shut the fuck up.” Hoosier throws a pillow in the general direction of his boyfriend, missing by a good half-a-metre. Leckie just smirks.
Relationships: Robert Leckie/Bill "Hoosier" Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	lazy nights under blankets

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I'm back again with yet another quarantine-themed fic. No, I will never bore of writing these.

Hoosier groaned, pulling the blanket over his head as the incessant _tap-tap-tap_ from across the room ricocheted inside his head. The beginnings of a headache had been pulling behind his eyes for the past hour now. 

“Babe, it’s five-thirty.” he grumbled from underneath his warm cover.

The tapping stops, and Hoosier takes the risk of peeking out between a gap of the blanket and the couch. Leckie is sat in the same position that he’s been in for the past few days now (excluding toilet and food breaks and the occasional nap), hunched over his laptop and staring at a bright white screen. Although he’s at least looking at Hoosier now.

“You know I’m trying to finish this book, Bill.” Leckie says, matter-of-factly with a quirk of a knowing eyebrow. Because, yes, Hoosier is well aware that Leckie is trying to use this whole ‘lockdown’ as an excuse to blast through his latest work. However, that shouldn’t mean that he ignores his very bored and cuddle-deprived boyfriend.

“And I’m trying to hibernate over here.” Hoosier huffs, not willing to admit that he just wants to snuggle with Leckie for an unreasonable amount of time; he'd never hear the end of it.

“Hibernate? In March?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Hoosier throws a pillow in the general direction of his boyfriend, missing by a good half-a-metre. Leckie just smirks, going back to his laptop. Hoosier sighs. “Whatever, I’m going to get coffee.”

He pulls himself out from the blanket, joints creaking in protest, and stretches with a yawn. Most of it's for show; he knows Leckie can see his reflection in the screen of his laptop and Hoosier's only dressed in a pair of black boxers, Leckie's favourite star-wars tee that somehow drowns Hoosier and fluffy socks. Before his boyfriend can comment, though, he's padding out of the room without the offer of getting Leckie anything.

He thinks he hears a muttered, “Tease.” as he turns into the kitchen down the hall but he keeps quiet.

As he’s waiting for the pot of coffee to brew he feels a soft brush against his leg, followed by a _meow_.

“What's up, darling?” he coos, bending down to run his fingers through the thick fur of their cat – Missy, from the rescue centre downtown. They’ve had her for just over a year now and, although Hoosier always imagined himself with a dog as an adult, he has to admit that he adores her to pieces. Besides, an old apartment building like this is no place for a dog. Perhaps when they move to a proper house.

Another high-pitched _meow_ grabs his attention again just as the coffee pot whistles. Straightening to pour his drink, chucking in a sugar and stirring with a teaspoon left on the counter from this morning, Hoosier gently nudges Missy with his socked foot.

“Did daddy not feed you earlier?” he pouts, earning a purr in response which he takes to be a yes. “He’s awful, isn’t he? Go on, go tell him off. Tell him he’s not a very good father or boyfriend.”

“Talking to the cat again?” Leckie chuckles, startling Hoosier. But instead of blushing, Hoosier just rolls his eyes and chucks the used teaspoon into the sink.

“She’s just telling me about how neglectful you are.”

“Oh, is that so?” Leckie raises an amused eyebrow, pushing up from where he'd been leaning in the doorway and walking into the room. “Well, need I remind her that I’m the one that gets up to feed her in the morning when she won’t stop wailing.”

“She’s hungry. She can’t help that.”

Leckie fixes Missy with a shocked expression, “Did you hear that? Your papa _knows_ you’re hungry but still chooses sleep over you!”

“Fuck off.” Hoosier rolls his eyes, picking up his coffee and taking a cautious sip. He watches, leant against the counter, as Leckie manoeuvres around the cramped kitchen to make a grab for Missy, cradling her in his arms and walking to stand in front of him.

He turns so that Missy is facing Hoosier, inches away from him. Leckie meets his eyes. “Look into that face and tell her that you would rather sleep than get up early to feed her.”

Hoosier blinks, not breaking eye contact as he takes another sip of hot coffee. The mug is warm in his hands. Then, as a smirk spreads across Leckie's face, Hoosier looks down to Missy and tilts his head – giving his best look of innocence. “Your daddy is a real dick.”

Leckie gasps, covering the cat's ears with one palm. “Hey! Language!”

Hoosier shakes his head, definitely not fighting back a smile. “You’re such a dork.”

Before Leckie can snap back with some fancy retort, he slips out from where he was cornered against the counter and heads back to the lounge. Placing his mug on the coffee table, littered with magazines and book clippings and take-out menus, he flops back into his nest on the couch.

Unsurprisingly, Leckie isn’t far behind. Presumably having left Missy in the kitchen, he saunters back into the room with a smugness that irritates Hoosier beyond belief – his grey sweatpants hanging loose on his hips and exposing a dark trail of hair peeking out from under his red tee (which Hoosier is certain he bought a size too small on purpose).

Not giving him the chance to sneak past and back to his laptop, Hoosier reaches out and latches on to Leckie's wrist, fingers wrapped around tight. Leckie gives him a pointed look, but Hoosier ignores it in favour of violently tugging his annoying boyfriend down to his lap, bracing himself for the weight that falls on top of him at the movement.

“Hoos!” Leckie cries out, but makes no attempt to get back up.

Hoosier takes that as his opportunity, at last. Placing his lips to the exposed skin of Leckie's neck, he trails a line of soft kisses to his boyfriend's jaw – two day old stubble itching his face but a nice change to the usual smoothness he’s met with.

“Stay,” he murmurs into the joint between Leckie's jaw and throat. Leckie grumbles at first, but must decide against whatever he was going to say since he settles back into Hoosier's chest.

“Fine,” he finally says, “Let me get comfy then.”

As Leckie rearranges himself into a slightly more comfortable position, slipped into the small space between Hoosier and the edge of the couch, Hoosier smiles. They slide down the length of the couch, Leckie reaching to grab for the forgotten blanket and throwing it haphazardly over the both of them.

“Five minutes.” Leckie says, in the tone one might use when warning a child how long they’ve got until bedtime.

Hoosier rolls his eyes, arms tightening around Leckie's waist and pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to the back of the man's neck as he does so. “Ten minutes.” he corrects.

Leckie doesn’t respond, breath steadying as he relaxes into Hoosier’s hold. He’s not sleeping, though, because Hoosier can feel him fiddling with his fingers from where they’re entwined across Leckie's stomach – a reassuring gesture that Hoosier has noticed Leckie does often – and it causes another stupid smile on Hoosier's face.

Closing his eyes, Hoosier buries his face into the head of dark curls in front of him and inhales deeply, enjoying the familiar scent of the apple shampoo Leckie always insists on buying – global pandemic or not.

They don’t speak for a long while, not that they particularly need to, and if they don’t move until at least an hour has past and the light pouring in from the window opposite has changed from the late sun to the glare of a streetlight...well, does it really matter?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to say hi over at [Tumblr](https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/) or drop me a prompt! Hope y'all are staying safe <3


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